


winter collection

by anicula



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 14:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anicula/pseuds/anicula
Summary: collection of ficlets from winter 2017 tumblr





	1. A WORLD ALONE

Their new place is nice,  _so nice_  - large windows that look right over the park on one side and over the busy streets of London on the other. But it’s quiet. 

There is no rattling of the windows when the wind is too strong. No rattling of Eskild in the kitchen. No rattling of anything except her pottering around the flat, not quite settling down to do real chores or schoolwork, not quite ready to believe that she’s here again. In the same place she thought she left in Madrid. 

She’s taken to sitting at the window, staring at the large masses of people that seem to be constantly moving through Hyde Park, so intent on their phones and their tablets, always looking at the park through the lenses of a camera or not at all. It’s so much like Madrid and unalike she gets nostalgic - the people are a little different in their countenance but the rush is the same, the force that pushes them to be a constant whirl of movement and ambition. And still, she feels the same. Still, after all this time, she’s back to a place she thought she’d never, ever let herself plunge back into. 

Being busy with mindless work and occasional walks outside just to get some sunlight doesn’t erase the fact that she’s worse than when she left (infinitely worse). Eva can tell, Noora knows but it’s hard to mask everything with facetime and constant phone calls to her girls. They know something’s wrong but no one’s wanting to be the one that pushes, sometimes Sana will say something and Noora tries her best to steer away, she’s not ready to face the toppling pile of- 

Well. 

She’s not quite sure what it is any more. 

The people at school only speaking to her when they want to know more about Scandinavian culture, but never to her, not really. It’s hard to focus when everything’s spiraling out of control so fast, faster than the first time and faster than she thought possible. Her throw pillow’s tearing at the edges where she’s pulled the threads too many times while staring aimlessly outside, hoping for a glimpse of a sleek black car. A glimpse of anything that tells her she’s okay, she’s not alone, not this time. All the cars in this area are sleek though, all a certain shade of glossy raven black. She gets her hopes up too many times in the first ten minutes of staring outside and maybe that’s her problem, she’s too-

damn

 fucking

     ~~stupid~~

The knowledge that she hasn’t eaten in a while creeps up on her slowly. No one here to remind her that she needs food. No Vilde, no Eskild, and definitely no Wil-

It takes a phone call from Linn to get her to break. She never thought it’d be Linn, Linn who barely made it out of her own bed some days but that’s just how it goes anyways. Her quiet understanding is more painful than anything Noora thought she’d be able to endure. The pain is like pulling teeth out and once it’s done, nothing could stem the blood that rushes over after, coming up to the surface whether Noora wants it to or not - all these words and thoughts she’s been stuffing away in a corner so she didn’t have to look. It’s like poking at bruises once she decides to call her girls too. A little painful still, but it’s healing, the damaged cells are slowly being disposed of - soon all the black will be blue and faint and maybe one day - it won’t be there at all. 


	2. SUNDAY | Α

William was a Slytherin. Of course he was, she had thought disdainfully when she first caught sight of him. Him walking down the hall amidst whispers and giggles, acknowledging no one, as if he was above all of them. 

But now, now she stares at his sleeping face, finally at peace with no furrow between his brow, no teasing smirk at his lips, and she wonders. Wonders if he had deliberately asked the hat for a specific house, if he had shirked his true self just to be with his family. Even if that family had screwed him over so many times, she’s spent more nights in his bed holding him tight than anything else, wishing on star upon star, wishing for the impossible, anything to make his hurts better. 

She traces the line of his nose, down his lips, along his collarbone and finally brushing the tops of his shoulder before she presses a kiss to his forehead and heaves herself up. While William could laze in bed all day today, she had genuine work she needed to get done for the week ahead, essays to write and notes to review. The minute she tries to disentangle them, the arms around her tighten and flex and she can’t help but crack a smile. 

“William,” Noora says, tracing the fingers that were laced stubbornly together, refusing to relent even when she slips hers in between. 

“Noora.” His eyes are closed but his mouth is twitching into that barely there, blink and you’ll miss it smile that so often graced his face. 

“I thought we talked about this.” She leans back anyways, against her better judgement because it’s so warm and nothing is harder to resist than a sleep rumpled William bathed in sunlight. 

“It’s only ten,” he grumbles, so indistinctly she wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t buried his face in her hair, close enough she could feel his mouth move around the words. 

She turns to face him, the unbearably fond smile she can feel taking over her face is not helping her attempt to leave but she has to. Noora takes a long look at his face, eyes resolutely closed. She taps his nose, pressing a kiss there right after. 

“And I can get back much earlier if I start now,” Noora reasons against the dimples that appear when he makes a face. He finally opens his eyes, the brown of them hazy with sleep and pupils dark with intent on her face, as if searching for duplicity. It hurts her a little every time it happens. It’s not her, she knows but she still wants to restart time for the two of them when the insecurity runs across his face, usually so minimal in expression but wholly incapable of deceit when she truly takes the time to look. 

“Will I see you at dinner?” William asks, finished with his perusal. He leans back into the pillows while taking Noora with him. 

“I should be done by four if you want to go for a walk before dinner,” Noora says, staring at the ceiling that was quickly becoming more familiar to her than her own. 

“Okay,” William sighs and releases her with one - two, three kisses. “But take a sweater with you, it’s cold out.” 

“A Penetrator sweatshirt?” Noora asks, barely containing the glee in her voice. 

William just rolls his eyes and huffs, saying nothing. 

Noora picks up a knitted grey sweater from the end of the bed instead and another kiss, and another till she has to physically push William back.  

“I’ll see you in a bit.”  She rakes her eyes over William’s face - it’s hard to ever get her fill of him. He settles back into bed with a quiet hum, letting her tug at his hair before she leaves, seemingly at peace. 


	3. MONDAY |  Β

Noora knew he would make her cry. It was just the nature of boys like William. Boys who were broody and laconic and completely incapable of softening their blows. She prepared herself for it, waited with baited breath every time she contradicted him, when she pushed him away and hoped against hope that it wouldn’t push him somewhere else but knowing, in some nebulous part of her, that one day it would - and she would cry. 

So Noora waited. Waited days, weeks, months and more of Eva telling Noora in that smug way of hers that there was no way William would break her heart, he was so set on them forever she had caught him looking at rings in Hogsmeade -  _rings Noora!_ And it’s no surprise to her but she can’t tell Eva that William had decided on marriage a day into their undefined thing. It’s just one of those things not done that William had decided on doing and it’s only left her warmer on the inside than she had any right to be in the middle of December. 

They’re standing on the edges of the Forbidden Forest, watching the Christmas trees get carried in when William mentions his plans for the Christmas break, sneaking in glances at her face while he talks. Noora knows he’s gearing up to ask her something and she lets him be for a while, rambling on about taking his boys out to a cabin for the week after Christmas to celebrate New Year’s. 

Noora only diverts her attention from the ambiance of the snow falling and the crisp smell of pine when he stops, the cadence of his deep murmurs falling to nothing. 

“What?” Noora asks, turning to face him fully to see him rubbing at the top of his lip and staring at her. 

“Were you listening?” William counters, leaning in close enough to kiss, the brown of his eyes warm enough to swallow her whole. 

“Of course,” she replies with a sunny smile she knows isn’t fooling him at all. 

His only reply is a disbelieving roll of his eyes and a soft kiss to the side of her head. 

William pulls them in a different direction after, walking them along the edges, away from school and they meander in the perfect quiet of winter till they reach a small pond fed by little creeks winding their way through the cold.

“So I was thinking-”

“You can think?” Noora asked, squinting up at him.

William mock-glared and nudged her away with his elbows, actions countered by his hands pulling her back a split-second later. “I was _thinking_ ,” here he paused with a pointed look in her direction, “that we could meet up over the break,” the last part was rushed, his attention so completely focused on her, it took a couple of seconds for the words to sink in. 

“Uh - yeah?” Noora said, caught off guard. Of course nothing really surprised her anymore, but reworking her non-existent Christmas plans to include a William, well that just made her a bit squirmy on the inside. 

“Yeah?” A large smile broke over William’s face, his eyes searched hers for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Noora said with more surety, her face tilted up to meet his. “I mean I can’t promise it’ll be very interesting in muggle London unless you have other plans for us but…” she trailed off. 

William shrugged. “I didn’t really think that far,” he said. “I just wanted to see you before school started again.” He pressed a kiss against her lips. “Ideally I’d see you all the days, but-” he shrugged again, “I don’t want to impose. You might have family things you would need to do.” He looked conflicted and Noora knew what was coming up next, she just didn’t think they’d be there already. So she dragged her feet a little, letting the moment linger. 

“Well,” she paused when he pulled his eyes up from the ground to meet hers, “you would be in luck because I don’t have any family things to do. Free the entire Christmas break. Lucky me.” Noora forced a smile on her face. She didn’t want pity but she didn’t want to hide either. It wasn’t fair that she knew so much about William, granted not always with his consent, but how very little of her background made it into conversation besides that she lived with eccentrics when she wasn’t at school. 

“Yeah?” William asked, not quite smiling and peering at her under his fringe. 

“My parents are on vacation, will be for the next few weeks,” Noora said with a shrug, “they like being by themselves.” She paused and breathed deep, hoping to staunch the tide of upset that always followed the thoughts of her parents. “So it’s usually just me - mostly. I mean, I’m an only child but you already knew that and my parents don’t care about what I do or well just me in general, they’re so caught up in each other and they never wanted a child in the first place.” Noora breathed out. “So yeah - it’s just me and I’m free. Constantly. Like a bird.” She pulled her gaze from the horizon reluctantly to look at William’s face. 

“I find that hard to believe,” William’s voice is subdued and grave when he does speak. “How could anyone not care about you?” He cupped her face and brushed her cheek with his fingers so softly the first tear falls without her knowing. 

Once she’s registered it though, she has to turn away. The heat of the tears are threatening to choke her up, the dam barely shoring up, and she can’t bear to look at anything, let alone anyone.

William stayed behind her, giving her space while stroking her hair calmly until she could clear her throat properly. “Hey you,” he finally said, his fingers tilting her head back towards him. She went willingly, even when all he offered was a hug, tight and encompassing until the smell of winter faded away so all she could smell was William. William and his hands which were still stroking her hair. William who was now starting to pull away to take a good look at her. “How are you?” he asked, voice so low it nearly blended in with the wind whistling through the trees. 

Noora looked at him, his eyes so dear and his brows and the lines of a face soaked in care, and found she couldn’t speak. She gripped him tighter and held on till the clog in her throat went away. “Could be worse,” she managed to drudge up a smile, quavery though it felt. 

William took another long look at her and then took his scarf and wiped at her face, the cashmere wonderfully soft against her skin and peppered her with kisses that were just as soft. 

“Would some cocoa make it better?” William asked, his mouth still pressed against her forehead.

Noora shrugged, her lips unwilling quirked up. “Perhaps,” she said at last, snuggling deeper into the pocket of warmth William provided, chilled now that the heat of her emotions had left her. She let him maneuver them into the direction of the castle and the warm hearths, the crunching of snow underfoot as soothing a balm as William’s arm looped over her shoulders. 


	4. ROSES ARE RED

Noora arrived home to the most ridiculously large bouquet of roses she’d ever seen outside her door. It was placed on her doormat and the damn thing was so large she couldn’t even see her doormat underneath. 

She sighed and heaved the monstrosity into her arms. Noora could barely find her keys with the flowers in her arms and had to open her door one handed. When she finally got the door open, and shoved the flowers through, she searched for the note sure to be shoved somewhere in the pile of roses. Noora found the note, written on a heavy cream paper that screamed money more than the sizable bouquet did, in between two roses that were crushed in her journey from one side of the door to the other.

All it said on the front was  _Noora_. 

She flipped it open and more petals fell out. It was so terrible and sappy, she wanted to laugh and roll her eyes but what she did end up doing was nearly crying because it was just like William to be contrary and bring out the strangest feelings in her. The note wasn’t long. Just three words. But William had obviously handwritten it himself, the letters were spikey and cramped together and Noora spent far too long tracing them before reminding herself that she had to make herself dinner and a thousand other things that did not include tracing words like a lovesick fool. 

_do you like it?_

William’s text came mere seconds after Noora had dropped the flowers on her kitchen table. William who paid nearly no attention to things that he should, but was more keen than a hound with prey when he wanted to be and if Noora had to guess, she would’ve said that he had put a tracker on the flowers himself to make sure he knew the exact moment she picked them up. 

_no_

She let her phone fall to the couch and resisted the urge to call someone, anyone, even Eskild, to talk about how dumb and stupid and amazing her boyfriend was. But then they’d probably just sigh and put her on speaker as the background track to whatever work they were doing. And Noora might have to admit that her life was a bit like a John Hughes movie wherever William was concerned but that was only because William, the light of her life and fire of her loins, took his advice from bad hallmark movies and Chris, the only other person on earth who was even more over the top with his romantic gestures than William was if what she had heard from Eva was correct.

Noora let herself sink into her couch, on top of her phone so she could feel if anything else came in, but comfortable enough she could wallow in the feeling of being loved and cared for that William always somehow managed to make her feel, no matter how far away he was. 

She was minutes away from falling asleep when the front door opened and her heart skipped a beat. The cleaning lady wasn’t scheduled for today unless William had changed the times without remembering to tell her. Noora was halfway up, her bag in hand just in case when she saw him. 

William was rumpled, tie hanging half undone, the buttons underneath already undone and cuff links in hand. 

“Hi.” William grinned, holding up one of the roses. So pleased with himself, he looked near deranged with his face so scrunched up. And Noora. Noora loved him for it. So full of love and fondness and all those other things she didn’t know the words for and didn’t know she’d ever feel this much of for one person. 

William dropped his suit jacket by the table and went over to kiss Noora. He pushed her back onto the couch and dropped down next to her, tucking them both in. 

“Surprised?” William asked when he got them settled in his weird, perfect arrangement of tangled limbs. 

“By your awful flowers?” Noora answered, looking up at his face. William looked tired, signs of a long flight all over his face from the creases on his cheek where he probably tried to sleep using the on flight blanket as a pillow to the black and blue under his eyes. She pressed her fingertips lightly on the shadows and traced the creases, touching nothing in particular but everything she could reach. 

“What’s wrong with the flowers?” William asked with furrowed brows. 

“Well, you got me roses,” Noora said, “need I continue about what a clic-?” 

William cut her off with an eye roll and a kiss. “You need to stop.” 

“Okay,” Noora said with a smile, shrugging and letting William push her away in mock exasperation. 

There was only so far she could go into the couch and she ended up still close enough to count all the freckles on the top of William’s cheekbones. She looked at him and couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from curving up. Noora reached over and tucked a stray piece of hair that had fallen across his forehead behind his ear. 

“So what are you doing back so early?” Noora asked. 

“It’s Valentine’s day,” William answered. He had closed his eyes to let Noora continue drawing nonsensical shapes all over, mostly to reassure herself that he was here and that this wasn’t some dream she had fallen into in post-work induced fatigue. 

“But you have work,” Noora said. “Won’t your father be disappointed?” Noora asked, and despite trying her best to keep the bitterness out of it, a little still seeped through. 

William turned his head to peer at her through tired lids. “Work ended early, last day’s only to assess all the new products coming into the market,” William said, “But all the products get sent to the office anyways so I skipped.” William sounded unconcerned but his gaze said that perhaps Noora sounded a bit more churlish than she thought she did. “You’re much better company than they are,” William continued, “And I thought it’d be nice if we had dinner.” 

“Dinner?” Noora snorted. “You’re exhausted.” She tapped on the shadows under his eyes. “Unless by dinner you mean take out.”

“I have a place for us at The Dorchester,” William said, “It’s late enough we can nap first.”

“The Dorchester?” Noora asked. “That’s a little fancy,” Noora continued as William yawned big enough to crack his jaw, “Can you even get your cuff links back on?” 

“I wanted it to be special,” William said. There was a glint of steely determination shining through the exhaustion in his eyes and Noora let out a sigh. 

“Okay,” Noora said. “As long as you can wake up in time.” 

William shot her a look, determined as always to make his plans work. “Of course I will be.” 

Noora kept silent, only raising an eyebrow and moving to pull the afghan over them. “If you say so.”

Noora fell asleep to the sound of William’s heart beating, the rising and falling of his chest under her cheek the right pace to lull her into a deep slumber. And they didn’t make the reservation, not even close. They slept through all the alarms and it was well into the night by the time William was rested enough to jerk awake, taking Noora with him. Noora pulled him back down and wrestled the phone from him when he tried to make a call to reschedule their dinner. She chucked it over the back of the couch and wrapped the afghan back around them. 

“Sleep,” Noora said with a pat on William’s chest. “That’s my surprise for you.” 


	5. YOU HAD MY TRUST IN YOUR HANDS

Her hair was long. So long it was getting caught in everything - under her backpack straps, in her coat zippers, and on one memorable occasion, in the hinges of the bedroom door. 

Noora stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair hadn’t been this long in forever. In fact, it hadn’t been this long since the eighth grade, and well - that association didn’t bother her anymore. It used to though, enough that whenever her hair skimmed her collarbones she’d get an itching under her skin to cut it all off that wouldn’t leave until she did. But she was different now, and she was better and giving up something she genuinely liked because she was scared was ridiculous. So it grew. 

It was nice to have longer hair to do things with again and she had more than enough free time to take care of it nowadays. It was just. A pain. Noora would brush her hair and clumps would fall out and the garbage in the bathroom was more her hair than anything else. And some days, she just didn’t want to bother with it at all. Today was one of those days. Where it was too long and brushing it into submission just didn’t seem worth it. 

A soft laugh took her attention away from the brush in her hand. 

“Want me to do it?” William was leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets.

“Please?” Noora said, holding up the brush, arm already tired at the thought of brushing. 

William pulled her down to sit on the bed, settling her between his legs with her back to him. He was always so careful when he did her hair and it was no exception this time. He was soft and light with his touches, the knots in her hair worked out by some magic that didn’t involve heinous pulling of her hair in the slightest. 

“Do you want me to braid it?” 

“Do whatever you feel like, I just want it out of my face.” 

“Okay.” 

His fingers carded her hair into sections, no doubt doing some strange, remarkably difficult updo that he’d never admit to learning from youtube but which, she knew he did anyways because he always left the tabs opened. 

When he was done, Noora got up to see what he did. William helped by holding up the handheld mirror behind her. 

“What is that?” Noora looked at the complicated twists he got her hair to do. 

“Do you like it?” William smiled at her and crowded her against the edge of the table to nudge the side of her face with the tip of his nose and press a kiss there. 

“It's very impressive,” she said, looking at him instead of the mirror. 

“Good.” He pressed a firm kiss against her lips. “Then you should get going, you’re going to be late for your brunch.” 


	6. IF YOU FEEL YOU HAVE TO

William stares across the table, at the tightly wound way Noora’s got her arms, everything tucked away, no words minced. He’s itching to say something, anything, but when he needs them his vocal cords give way and he has no response to offer. He’s never been good with words, he can write, sure, but that’s hours of mulling over things and tasting them on his tongue before deliverance. On the spot he was about as eloquent as a mime and the results were just as disastrous. There’s an apology waiting to burst out, but he can’t justify it and that’s just as bad as having none. 

Noora’s playing with her ring, twisting it round and round, louder than the ticking of the kitchen clock. She’s getting ready to leave again, he can see it in the way her mouth is set. 

His phone buzzes on the table and he watches it buzz itself to silence. His father. Noora sees the name on the screen and he knows it from the way she’s sitting back in her seat, face resigned. He wants to reach out and smooth those lines away. But he doesn’t. It’s in the red around her eyes and the tilt of her body, like yellow caution tape around everything he holds dear. He has only started to attempt when she gets up. It’s abrupt, sudden enough that the table shakes, taking with it the last of the candles on the cake. 

That’s when he catches sight of the packed bag he didn’t see on his way in. It’s a neat, green canvas they got the last time they were in Lillehammer. There’s a rising lump in his throat and he tries to force it down. He places his shaking hands flat on his knees, keeping them under the table. There are a thousand promises and platitudes running through his head but he can’t give voice to any of them now, don’t even know if they would do anything but damage because Noora - Noora for all her books and pens and papers, doesn’t actually like words. Not when it matters. She needs the steadiness of touch, the weight and heft behind things done and people present. And he. He wasn’t present.  

“I think it’s best if I go over to Eva’s tonight.” Her voice is steady when she speaks, beautiful as always even with a frown marring her features. 

“Are you coming back?” he couldn’t help but ask. The words come out mumbled and half incoherent, caught up with the rasp and gravel in his throat. 

Noora gives a hapless shrug, her eyes focused on the grain of the table. She traces the edges of the lines with her nails, inaudible in the silence punctuated by the kitchen clock. 

“Noora?” He hates the waver in his voice, hates how the prickle of salt is threatening the edges of his vision. 

“William.” The sigh that leaves her lungs sound final. So much so that her next words leave him reeling. “I love you.” This though, is uncertain, partnered with a skittish glance his way. 

“I-” 

He stops. Swallows because it came out like garbled nonsense. 

“I love you too.” 

At this, Noora sighs a little, deflates almost. “But I think maybe a bit of space would be-”

 _Beneficial. Practical. Good_. He might as well be in a board meeting she delivers it so cheerlessly. 

The buzzing in his ears doesn’t subside until well after the door has been closed and the wax has completely hardened on the table top. 


	7. SNEAK UP ON YOU REALLY QUIET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> winter 2018

William was anxious. It’s the only word Noora can come up with to describe him in his current state. He’s got his best dress shirt on even though she told him it’d be a casual dinner and that her parents didn’t do formal. 

William, however, is wearing what appears to be a step down from the tux in his closet, and the only reason why he wasn’t wearing that was because Noora was there to stop him. As is, he’s still nervously undoing and redoing his cuff links. 

Noora reaches over the console to place a hand on his worrying hands. “You know you’ve got to start the car if you don’t want us to be late right?”

He lets out a breath of air that sounds more like he got punched in the solar plexus than a conscious relaxation of his diaphragm. Noora moves his fingers around the key to shove it into the ignition. She gives the shaking limb a light pat before settling back into her seat. 

“Now you gotta turn the key,” she prompts when he just sits there, stalled.

She’s doing her best to not laugh at his plight but the large grin on her face refuses to budge. 

“Hey you,” she says after a minute and tugs on the sleeve of his jacket when he stays staring at his white knuckled hands,“don’t worry so much.” Noora brushes his fringe off to the side when he finally turns to look at her. “I could literally care less about what they think.” She lets her fingers linger over his top lip and meets his eyes. “I love you,” a small kiss against the corner of his mouth, “no matter what they might say.”

The muscle in his jaw twitches and Noora brushes her hand over it. 

“I know.” His words are low and muddled. He catches her hand in his and gives it a kiss. He releases her hand, puts it on her lap with his on top. The short pause is enough to push Noora to wrap her hands around his again. She opens her mouth but William beats her to it. “I don’t think I’m nervous about what they think so much as what I’ll think when I meet them,” he enunciates slowly as he drags his gaze up to meet hers. “Is that - bad?” He looks hesitant with his dark brown eyes wide under his fringe.

Noora, caught off guard, stretches her opened mouth into something hopefully resembling a smile. “No,” she replies, not as firmly as she’d like. William had made clear his views on her parents several times before, his thoughts were not unexpected, yet - “I don’t think that’s bad at all,” she squeezes the hand of her own personal guard dog, so unaware of his own appeal in the moment with his brows furrowed and eyes just a little guilty - though they relax infinitesimally after her words. 

“So - should we?” Noora nods her head towards the road in front of them when all that fills the silence is William’s terse nod, eyes now more determined than anxious. 

He lets out a breath and releases her hand, shaking himself out of whatever reverie he had talked himself into. He wraps his hands back around the steering wheel, more sure than before and definitely less terrifyingly white around the knuckles.

“We should.”


	8. WILL YOU BE MY BEST FRIEND, WILL YOU BE MY LAST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> winter 2017 little mermaid au

V

Noora stumbled along the beach, the sand not agreeing with how fast she wanted to go on her short legs. She was collecting sand dollars and she had seen the most perfect one on the other end of the beach, so she ran towards it. Her parents were on their beach towel doing weird adult things with their faces and they didn’t see her stumble up on a sandy hill and tumble down the other side. 

But Noora was transfixed by what she saw when she slid to a stop on the not so sandy other side of the hill. 

There was a boy there, lying on the rocky outcrop extending from the edge of the beach where the sand faded into sharp jagged edges of dark grey, almost black. He was resting there and didn’t seem to hear her fall. She had never seen a boy like him before. Pale, sure, but everyone in their small town was pale. What struck her was that he had a tail. It flipped this way and that, glistening under the hot summer sun. 

She crept closer to him, not wanting to spook him. His eyes were closed once she got near enough to touch the rock he was lying on. 

“Hello,” she said, because that’s what her parents always told her to say first before she started talking to people. 

The boy startled so bad, he rolled off the rock and splashed into the water. When he came back up again on the other side, Noora only saw the wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead and his brown eyes peering at her just over the top of the boulder. 

“I’m Noora,” she said. And held her hand out for him to shake. She wasn’t sure if that’s what you were supposed to do with fish people but she saw her parents do it countless times with strangers and the boy was definitely a stranger. 

VI 

“Are there others like you?” 

They were skipping rocks on the water. It was a balmy summer day and Noora’s parents had let her go this morning with explicit instruction that she only stay on their section of the beach.

William let his pebble drop straight into the sea instead of throwing it and Noora turned to him. His shoulders had sloped down. 

“I don’t know,” William said, his eyes on the sinking pebble. His tail flicked out, smacking against the side of the ledge they were sitting on loudly. 

“Would your mom know?” Noora asked. 

“She’s not my mom,” William said. 

“But she looks after you,” Noora pointed out. 

“Yeah but she’s not like your mom.” William rooted through the pile of rocks they had amassed earlier between them. “She just wants me for my scales. She doesn’t care about me. It’s always ‘William don’t do go on the beach, you might damage your tail’ or ‘don’t sit on rocks, it’s bad for your scales’.” He threw a few of the pebbles away angrily, not even bothering to aim them properly to skip them. 

“I care about you,” Noora said when William continued throwing rocks away carelessly. She tugged William closer to her. He resisted at first but she persisted and wrangled him into a hug. “I don’t care about your scales,” she whispered. Then she reconsidered. “Unless they were bleeding, or you were hurt.”

VIII

“I hate boys,” Noora pronounced. She dropped down on the floor next to William. 

“I’m a boy,” William pointed out. 

“Yes, but you’re only half a boy,” Noora said. 

William poked her arm with his finger. “Do I need to be a full boy for you to hate me too?” 

“That’s not the point,” Noora said, sighing, “Boys are stupid and they should all find another school to go to.” 

William watched her move around. Noora had gotten up and was kicking bits of loose gravel around. 

“Did you get into trouble again?” William asked after a sizable rock flew past, just shy of hitting his fins. 

“Yes,” Noora answered with a moue to her mouth. 

“What happened?” 

“I called someone stupid.” 

“What did they do?” 

“They called my hair ugly.”

“Your hair is nice,” William offered. He swam around the edges of the grotto to where Noora had taken up walking back and forth. “What did your parents say about it?” 

“Don’t be so impulsive Noora, be patient, don’t call people stupid, listen to the teacher blah blah blah.” Noora plucked at her long braid, shorter now after her afternoon dispute with the school bully. “It wasn’t even my fault. I wouldn’t have called him stupid if he wasn’t stupid.”

“How is he stupid?” William asked curiously. 

“He can’t read or write,” Noora said. “Well, he can but not very good. Amelia’s better than him and she’s seven.” 

“I can’t read or write,” William said. “Am I stupid?” 

Noora looked at him then, coming out of her chaotic destruction of anything movable to sit next to where he had rested against the edge of the shallow pool. “You are not stupid,” she said firmly, with all the confidence afforded her by her youth. 

“But I can’t read or write,” William said with his head pillowed on his arms. 

“Well,” Noora said, not sure where she was going with it but she was sure she had an idea somewhere. It was a few minutes before she came up with one but once she did she jerked William’s arm in excitement. 

“I can teach you,” she declared to William’s dubious face. “I’m the best reader in my class and I can teach you. And then you’ll be just as smart as me.” Noora smiled at him triumphantly. 

XII 

“I want to sleep over at a friend’s house,” Noora said. She was sitting at the kitchen counter and staring at her mother’s back. 

“Do we know this friend?” Her mother asked, her attention focused on the page of newspaper her father had tacked onto the fridge. 

“No,” Noora said. “They’re a new friend, I met them at school.” 

“Is that right?” Her mother started filling in the sudoku section. “Well you know the rules. I want to meet their parents first.” 

Noora deflated. “But they don’t have parents.” 

Her mother looked over. “Do they have a guardian? Surely someone must be looking after them.” 

“There is,” Noora said slowly, “they’re not very nice.” 

“Not very nice?” her mother asked. “Is your friend in trouble? Do you want me to talk to them?” 

“No!” Noora said hurriedly. “They’re fine. She’s just strict.” 

“Are you sure?” her mother came over to the kitchen counter. “Because you can always talk to me.” She brushed Noora’s hair back. 

“I know.” Noora edged away from her mother’s hand. “Can I go though? For the sleepover? I promised them I would. And I’ll keep my phone with me.” 

Noora’s mother looked at her appraisingly. “How about you tell them to give us a call? I don’t want you going somewhere with someone we don’t know.” 

Noora sighed dejectedly, knowing her plan to spend the night at the beach was never going to reach fruition. “Okay.” 

XVI

“William,” Noora called out as she neared their grotto. “I got a surprise for you.” She searched through their usual hiding places when she didn’t get a reply. There weren’t a lot of them now. Between their growth spurts, particularly William’s, there weren’t a lot of places near the sea that could hide both their forms against the gaze of onlookers anymore. 

She held her bag above the small tidal pools that littered the area around the grotto when she crossed them to find William at the bottom of a particularly large one. Noora plunged her hand into it and splashed around to catch William’s attention from where he was inspecting a white broken piece of coral. He caught sight of her and surfaced, bringing with him a wave of water that splashed against Noora and dampened the bottom of her jeans. 

“Hi,” William said, the piece of coral still cradled in his hands. 

“What is that?” Noora looked at the piece of coral, wondering where he could even find such a thing this north of the warm oceanic waters. 

“It’s from Fugløy,” William shook it a little, “but I think it’s dead.” He held it up to the sun and peered into the small openings peppering the surface. 

“Fugløy has coral reefs?” Noora asked, looking sidelong at William. 

“Yeah, there’s lots of them around there,” William said brightly. “I go there all the time. The fishes there are nicer than the ones here.” 

“The fishes are nicer there?” Noora asked with a teasing smile. “Poor William, are you getting bullied by schools of fish? How terrible they must be, swimming back and forth all the time.” 

“You’re only saying that because you’ve never had them swim around you,” William said, putting his new treasure down by the side of the pool. He pulled himself out to sit upright and patted the dry space next to him for Noora to sit on.

“I would if a certain somebody wasn’t too scared to let me go down too deep.” Noora dropped down next to William, laying on her back and letting herself be blinded by the sunlight. 

“You can’t breath water,” William pointed out in that obnoxiously logical way of his. 

“I guess,” Noora conceded with a scrunch of her nose. She threw a fistful of sand at his hip in retaliation anyways.


End file.
